


The Violin Slows

by xianvar



Series: June Special: Bingo [4]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Between Dishonored and Dishonored II, Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-21 15:31:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11360331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xianvar/pseuds/xianvar
Summary: Corvo wakes and the world is tinted blue. He doesn’t move for a long moment, listening intently, but there is nothing but the eerie quiet he had almost forgotten, the thudding beat of his heart as adrenaline chases the last dregs of sleep.





	The Violin Slows

**Author's Note:**

> Title, of course, from _Honor for All_. I could see this expanding into a longer thing, but mostly I just have a thing for inexperienced!Outsider, because sometimes you have more important things to do that engage in the pleasures of mortal men, until a ~special mortal someone comes along. 
> 
> ... and now I really want to get on to playing Dishonored II. Alas, uni (and the NaNoWriMo) calls...
> 
> Written for the FFC June Mini Bingo (card [here](http://kephiso.dreamwidth.org/9360.html).

Corvo wakes and the world is tinted blue. He doesn’t move for a long moment, listening intently, but there is nothing but the eerie quiet he had almost forgotten, the thudding beat of his heart as adrenaline chases the last dregs of sleep.

His power sings under his skin, woefully neglected as of late, and when he stands, he doesn’t walk to where he has left his clothes—he _blinks_. His arrival on the other side of the room is uneven, not quite as sure-footed as it used to. He takes a deep breath, hits the switch that turns the back of his closet into a doorway, and enters the hidden chamber behind.

He changes into almost forgotten garments, stows a couple of knives on his person and grabs both his crossbow and his sword. He doubts he will need them here, unsure of how much use they will be, but their familiar weight is reassuring.

He blinks back to the doorway, closes the switch on his way back out, and blinks to the wide balcony doors the light is strongest at. They have been shattered open, shards littering the air. The railing is floating mid-air, his first hint at where he’s going.

He blinks onto it, pleased to find that his balance is still where it is supposed to be—he knows he would simply wake back up in his bed should he miss (or at least he hopes that still holds true), but he is here for a reason—has to be here for a reason—and he would hate to keep the Outsider waiting.

 His power calms the more he blinks, though its buzzing is replaced by something that feels almost urgent, filling Corvo with a restless energy that keeps him moving, makes him lock onto spots to blink to faster, has the shadows dancing readily around him.

And so Corvo blinks and focuses and blinks again, and the Void around him hugs him and seems to feed his powers, for he does not feel even the slightest bit out of breath as he supposes he should from this extended use of his power.

The Heart beats in its pouch on the inside of his coat, and even though he is not holding it, the word _careful_ echoes around him. He slows obligingly, pulling the shadows closer around him.

His own heart beats in his chest, harder and faster than the one in his pocket, and he keeps breathing as he looks around. There is a vantage point he could probably blink to, and he doesn’t even have the time to formulate the request before his vision tints sepia, offset only by two bright spots, close enough to each other that his vision does not grant him details.

He grimaces, pulls his hood tighter over his face, and blinks to the top of the statue in front of him, standing proud in the middle of the round plaza.

The scene below him is, objectively, not that bad. Two men are standing on the far side, close to each other, talking. Though when Corvo looks closer—maybe aided by the Void, he isn’t sure—it turns from _not that bad_ into _this has to be a nightmare_.

Because below is the Outsider—immortal, unflappable, in-control Outsider—with a blade to his throat, trying hard, from the looks of it, not to lean away from the blade.

“… puny facsimile of a life you have here,” the other man says, broad shouldered and standing a head or more taller than the Outsider, the exact details of his person indiscernible from where Corvo is crouched.

“You won’t get anything from me,” the Outsider replies, and even though Corvo has to strain to catch what he is saying, the tone is a lot less self-assured and calm than he is used to.

The man laughs, an empty, horrifying sound that almost makes Corvo’s blood curdle. “I don’t need anything from _you_.” He pauses, leaning closer to the Outsider. Maybe he whispers something, maybe he just looks intimidatingly; Corvo can’t make it out. “I can get it just fine with you dead.”

Corvo’s powers positively _shriek_ in his mind, racing into his finger tips and making his skin tingle. _It’s fine_ , he thinks at them with all his might, takes a deep breath and focuses. It is time to do something. Time to get back into the fight.

~*~

He wipes the blade clean on the stranger’s shirt, sliding it back into its sheath. The Outsider is sitting where

“Oh Corvo,” the Outsider says, his voice wistful and quiet, “You do have a knack for being the knight in shining armour, don’t you?”

Several options of how to react race through Corvo’s mind, but surely there is nothing wrong with answering in kind?

He looks down at his attire. “I don’t think anything I wear is that shiny.” He doesn’t say, _I’m not a knight_ , doesn’t say, _it’s what I do_. His choice is rewarded by the Outsider smiling at him, a genuine smile that reaches his impossibly dark eyes.

Corvo swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

“That it is not,” the Outsider agrees, taking a step closer, right into Corvo’s personal space. It bothers him surprisingly little. “I think I owe you my gratitude.” The Outsider’s voice is low, almost intimate, and Corvo swallows again.

He expects him to hand over another Rune, or maybe a Bone Charm, increase his powers in some way, except that the Outsider does none of those things. Instead, he leans in, eyes firmly on Corvo’s, and kisses him, a short, fleeting, slightly unsure kiss.

It is over quickly, nothing more than a dry peck on the lips, and Corvo stares at the Outsider for a moment, sees the nervousness underneath his self-assured manner; and could it be that this ageless, almost-immortal being is a _virgin_ still?

He growls, low in his thought, and grabs the Outsider again, pulling him in and claiming his lips, trying to push all the emotions he doesn’t usually show into this one kiss.

When they part again, they are both breathing heavily, a strange tension between them, and then the Outsider licks his lips, and Corvo can’t help himself—he has to kiss the Outsider again.

Corvo is only peripherally aware of the void dimming in its intensity, though when the Outsider pulls away and says, “this might be a better place to continue,” barely anything of his former uncertainty noticeable, they are standing in Corvo’s bedroom, the void reduced to the pale light of the moon, casting long shadows and making the Outsider appear even more angular and otherworldly.

Corvo doesn’t answer, opting instead to crowd him back in the direction of the bed, carefully unbuttoning the old shirt and pushing it off the Outsider’s shoulders. The chest underneath is pale and scarred, a crisscrossing pattern that is the most jagged right above his heart, and Corvo follows the lines with just his fingertips, making the Outsider shiver and suck in a breath.

He smiles, kisses the old wound right above his heart, and then trails his kisses downwards. The Outsider’s hands find their way into Corvo’s hair, like he’s seeking purchase, trying to anchor himself, and Corvo answers by running his own hands up and down the other man’s sides, trailing them around to his back, further down towards his ass—and what a fine ass that is—and squeezing, which makes the Outsider twitch underneath his hands.

Corvo presses another kiss just above the waistband, tilting his head so he can still see the Outsider’s face—blissed out and clearly aroused—as he brings one hand around to bestow a feather-light touch on the bulge visible in his pants. The Outsider gives a strangled grown, his hips jerking forward. Corvo moves further down, following the outline of the half-hard dick with his mouth, drawing more bitten off sounds. The Outsider’s hands clench in his hair almost painfully, and he decides to be kind.

Opening the button takes seconds, and the relieved sigh the Outsider gives when his dick spring free is like music in Corvo’s ears. It is a pretty dick, mostly straight and decently sized, though it is on the thin side of cocks Corvo has seen. It is probably a dick that is pleasant to ride, and Corvo’s cock twitches at the thought. He stows it away for later—hope there _is_ a later—and pushes the Outsider backwards, until he gives in and sinks down onto the bed, one hand leaving Corvo’s hand to grab the bed sheet.

Corvo runs his fingertips over the length of the dick, the softest of touches enough to draw more sounds, and he leans down and lets his breath ghost over the dick, taking in the musky smell of arousal. Precum beads at the tip, and he darts his tongue out to lick it up. The Outsider gasps, and then moans as Corvo wraps his lips around the head of his dick. He swirls his tongue around it, careful to keep his teeth away from skin, and concentrates on opening his own button with the hand not wrapped around the base of the Outsider’s dick.

Judging from the Outsider’s sounds, he will not last long, and so Corvo works their dicks in tandem, one with his mouth, bobbing up and down, messy and wet, and his own with his hand, hitting all his sweet spots.

The Outsider pulls on Corvo’s hair just moments before he’s about to come, trying to get him to move off, probably, but Corvo ignores him, redoubling his effort and working the parts he can’t get with his mouth with his hand until the Outsider spills into his mouth with a bitten-off moan.

Corvo twists his hand just so, so close as the last, weak spurts of the Outsider’s come dribble into his mouth. He pulls off with a wet pop, standing without breaking his rhythm, and the way the Outsider’s eyes widen at the sight of his own dick, his tongue darting out almost involuntarily to lick his lips, gives Corvo that last push over the edge, and he comes, painting the Outsider’s pattern of scars with lines of white as he groans, bending towards the Outsider with a sudden _need_ , kissing him desperately.

He wishes they could just fall back onto the bed, but even in his sex-addled brain he is conscious of his attire, and so he pulls back and sheds it, throwing it over one of the chairs while the Outsider rids himself of his boots, fingers shaky and slow enough that Corvo takes care of the second boot, helps him take off his pants.

They wipe off Corvo’s drying come with the Outsider’s shirt, which Corvo throws to the side of the bed carelessly as he climbs into bed next to the Outsider. He settles down on his side so he can look at the Outsider, his free hand tracing the scars and shadows.

“Who was that man?” Corvo asks, his voice rough and too loud in the quiet.

The Outsider sighs and scoots closer to Corvo, not enough to bridge the gap between them completely by an inch maybe. His eyes are drooping, and Corvo finds himself chuckling.

“I guess we can talk about that tomorrow, as well.” He leans in and presses another kiss to the scar above the Outsider’s heart. “I think you might need your sleep now.” He’s stating the obvious here, but the Outsider grumbles something that might be an agreement and curls up against Corvo’s side, and Corvo draws him in.

It’s not so bad to have another person in his bed, he decides as he lets himself sink down on his back, pulling the Outsider with him. And hopefully, they will have time to talk tomorrow—and maybe do some more enjoyable activities.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [Dreamwidth](http://kephiso.dreamwidth.org/), where I talk about life, fandom and friting (... I tried with the alliteration. I'm sorry). Come and say hi if you're so inclined!


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